Selfsame
by The Mystic Doctor
Summary: A great mind cannot simply be duplicated. You'd think everyone would know better. But there were some things that only the Cloaked Schemer could know. And what got to him most was the look in its eyes. A Zexion story.


"Zexion is very knowledgeable," they would say.

"If you have a question to ask or a fact to be confirmed, he'd be the one to ask."

"After all, his talent seems to be stuffing his head with whatever knowledge he can find, and he's good at it."

"For all his silence, he's not stupid." That one had come from Xigbar, of course.

Unacknowledged by some, and politely or not-so-politely acknowledged by others, the Organization XIII member named Zexion took quiet pride in his hunger – his drive – for words, for facts, for solid information. Be it a research article or a work of fiction, there was always something to be gained – a theory, a detail lost in history, a look into another's mind. It was good, and wise, to be intelligent. It was good to simply _know_. To take in as much as possible. Heart or no heart. Feeling or unfeeling. Some things never change.

Zexion prized his cunning and knowledgeable mind, as well as the nearly unlimited patience that had developed along with it. In all the worlds, there weren't many like the Cloaked Schemer.

/

He himself had inadvertently been the cause of the situation.

It all started when Zexion was in the library, searching for a certain volume on the interaction of memories within the heart which Vexen had asked him to find. While the most scientifically-oriented of them kept all the books and journals he used regularly in his laboratory, on a few occasions he would call for a new one from the library. And Zexion, knowing that particular part of the castle better than anyone, was usually the one to fetch it.

He had been given the title and so headed straight for the section of the library where he knew it would be found. After skimming over the proper shelf, he frowned; not in confusion, but in mild, well-practiced annoyance. Again he scanned the spines of the books, a bit more carefully. Evidently, the book he was looking for was not here. Which could only mean one of two things: either someone had removed it from the library to read elsewhere, or…

Zexion sighed and turned around to face the stacks of books haphazardly piled on the library's biggest table. He didn't know why some of his fellow comrades were too lazy to put a book they borrowed back in the spot where they'd found it. Perhaps it was just in their nature, or they were really that forgetful of where they'd picked it up.

Luckily for them, Zexion was good at holding his patience.

He walked over the soft carpet to the table and reached toward the closest stack to commence the search. But as his fingers touched the book on top, a dark portal materialized nearby, and Saïx stepped out. Turning his usual cold eyes toward Zexion, he said with an air of authority, "Axel has just returned from his assignment at Wonderland and has reported a mass amount of Heartless there – large, strong, and numerous new Heartless. He needs support. I'm going to have to ask you to go back there with him and help take care of the situation."

"There is no one else available?" asked Zexion with distaste. He was not thrilled with the notion of fighting Heartless on a day he had come to believe he could relax, or of going on a mission with Axel.

"There is, but among them, you are the one who has gone on the least number of missions this past week."

Zexion paused and glanced down at the books. "Can it wait a few extra minutes?"

"You'd have to ask Axel. He's waiting," Saïx answered indifferently, and left by the same means he had come.

Zexion had been in the Organization long enough to know that aside from any needed assignment preparation, no time should be wasted in going out to the field. He thought quickly. Vexen would be impatient soon if he didn't locate and deliver this volume – though there was really no reason why the scientist couldn't spare a few minutes to come up and find it himself. And yet it would take at least five minutes for Zexion to search through these piles.

Then a solution presented itself, one that really should have been obvious: he could leave a copy of himself here to finish the task. One of his clones, left here with a piece of his own mind, could get it done.

A moment later said clone was standing beside him, looking at him expectantly for orders. _Your job is simple_, Zexion thought, relaying the message through the path linking their minds. _Look through these volumes for 'Memories: Compilations and Cross-Effects', and when you find it, take it to Vexen. If it's not here, you might have to search around. Afterward, wait for me until I return._

The copy nodded, its long slate-blue bangs swaying slightly, its mouth a straight line.

Zexion took his leave.

/

When he returned to the castle hours later – after a mission that could have been worse, but definitely could have been better – Zexion headed to his personal chamber to rest, hoping to find the clone waiting there so he could re-assimilate it. But when he warped himself inside, he found the room empty. He lay on his bed for a bit, slowly recovering whatever energy had been lost while running around in Wonderland, before rising and going to the library.

Strangely enough, it too was deserted, though Zexion did notice that the stack of tomes had been cleared off the table. He was aware that he very rarely summoned his replicas outside of battle, and without him there to oversee it, maybe this copy had…gotten confused? Forgotten his order and was wandering around? No, that didn't make any sense at all. Zexion concentrated, forming a connection to the copy's mind. _In the laboratory_, came the voice.

Pondering, he went to investigate.

Zexion was one of the few people in Organization XIII whom Vexen didn't mind directly portaling into the lab rather than knocking on the door and entering "properly"; this was because he had proven himself to be one of the few members who got along with the eccentric scientist (and possessed an "intellect truly worthy of note"). When Zexion entered on this day, he was greeted not only by the usual indifferent nod from Vexen, but also by the sight of his copy sitting at the computer, typing away with an open notebook beside it. It looked up at Zexion at his entrance; dropped its hands in its lap.

"Good afternoon," Zexion addressed Vexen. "I trust that you received the book from my replica?"

"I did."

"Good. I was called away suddenly-"

"I know. I was told." Vexen straightened up from where he'd been leaning over a side counter studying a chart. "Rather, I figured it out when the one I believed to be you wouldn't respond to me."

"I see." Zexion returned his eyes to his look-alike, which was watching him with its expressionless face. "I suppose I'll collect it now."

Vexen caught on to Zexion's intention the very moment that Number Six was about to draw his counterpart back into his being. The older man extended his hand hastily. "Wait, Zexion!" he commanded.

The Nobody in question turned his head inquisitively.

"I have it copying notes for me right now," Vexen explained. "That particular notebook is falling apart at the seams, and it was time the data was transcribed to the computer anyway…" He paused, and a look of certainty overcame his face. "Please allow it to stay here and finish the job. You can return to whatever it is you need to do."

Now it was Zexion who hesitated. He took a few seconds to study Vexen's slightly impatient countenance, and then glanced at the clone, which was, quite predictably, still staring back at its creator placidly. But what Zexion hadn't predicted was the odd, inquiring glint in its eyes.

Perhaps it was because of that glint, or perhaps because he wanted to avoid an unnecessary argument with the often temperamental Vexen, but for a long time afterward Zexion never knew just what compelled him to submit to the request. "I suppose," he replied at last, and turned back to Vexen. "If you think it can assist you, and it won't get in your way."

The eerie satisfied smile that could only belong to Vexen accordingly crossed his thin lips. "I am obliged to you, Number Six."

Zexion turned back to his copy. The strange look he had seen in its eyes had vanished. _Listen to Vexen_, he told it silently. _I will be back soon to retrieve you._

As the dusky wisps indicating his exit obscured his view, he could hear the _clack-clack_ of typing on the keyboard resume.

/

Afternoon passed into evening, and after dinner Zexion occupied himself with sitting in the quiet library, a classic novel in his hands. A few hours later he closed the book and raised his head.

_Are you there?_

_Yes_, came the reply.

Zexion stood, stretched, and returned himself to the laboratory. His copy was sitting on a stool beside a small bookshelf, thumbing through what looked like a chemistry journal. Vexen was standing and peering over its shoulder. They both glanced up at the sound of Zexion's arrival.

"I thought I'd retrieve it before I turn in," Zexion said, gesturing to the duplicate. It carefully closed the journal and pressed it to its lap, then gazed at its maker.

"Actually, Zexion, I have another request to ask of you."

"Yes?" Zexion asked after a pause. He already had a suspicion.

"I'd like to keep it here permanently, as a menial lab assistant," Vexen announced. "It's proven to perform the simple yet tedious tasks very well, very diligently, without expectations for a reward, and of course, without complaints. Furthermore, it can retain much information if needed, especially having a brain that mirrors yours. Though I'm sure you were already aware of that."

Zexion was silent, considering the proposition. It was surprisingly difficult to find a reason to refute the idea. He didn't _need_ the clone for any vital reason; he wasn't losing anything by keeping it separate from himself. He only felt a little sorry for it, knowing it would be taking orders from Vexen all day, since Zexion already knew what that was like. Speaking of which…

"You're saying that it would be more efficient to have one of these working in here instead of the real me?" he asked.

Vexen was caught off guard, but only for a second. "Efficient, yes, in that I won't wind up calling you or Lexaeus for assistance, and you will have more time to yourself. I'm not undermining your abilities, of course, but I would have thought you'd rather be reading up on something and expanding your mind than, say, copying graphs or cleaning Bunsen burners."

He did have a point, it was impossible to deny. Zexion didn't expect the duplicate to have a reaction, but he looked at it anyway; it merely gave him a neutral look. "One last thing," he addressed Vexen. "Besides the free time, what's in this for me?"

The Chilly Academic's reply was not surprising. "You are free to take the fulfillment that comes from your indirect contribution to science, and ultimately, our collective cause." He put a hand on the clone's shoulder. Zexion found it a strange sight. Especially when the copy gave a sudden sigh and quiet smile.

/

After getting the required permission from Xemnas on the matter, Zexion didn't bother returning to the lab. A few times he contacted the copy via telepathy to see how it was holding up, but as the brief reports he received were more or less positive, he ceased doing that as well. And gradually, as the weeks went by, he forgot about his replica working away down in the laboratory.

That is, until one morning when he walked into the kitchen and, quite unsuspectingly, spotted himself standing at the refrigerator. Zexion blinked, startled and disoriented for just an instant. Then he remembered.

"Good morning," he greeted it briefly, and gave it a nod, before stepping over to the cabinets.

It nodded back in reply. It had just closed the refrigerator door and was now standing at the counter, holding an orange in one hand and carefully picking up a cup of tea with the other. Zexion, idly opening a cabinet, realized that it must be taking the food and drink down to Vexen, since it had no need to consume anything itself. He found a box of oatmeal and turned around in time to see his facsimile about to bump into another Nobody who was walking in through the kitchen door.

Demyx did a double-take at the two identical beings before him, but then smiled. "Good morning, Zexion. 'Morning, Z-2."

"'_Z-2'?_" The words were out before Zexion could even plan them.

"Yeah, that's my nickname for him," Demyx explained. "It felt strange to call him 'Zexion' when I knew he wasn't the actual you. I think it's getting around – I've been hearing a few others calling him that, too." He wandered over to the pantry in search of some cereal.

"'_Z-2'?_" Zexion was still getting over the absurdity of the very sound of it. "Why haven't I heard about this?" he asked.

Demyx shrugged. The duplicate looked uncertain, and seemed to be itching to leave the awkward atmosphere of the room.

Zexion eyed the tea and the orange that it held. "Wait just a moment," he told it. "I think I'll join you."

/

During the visit to the laboratory, Zexion's mind claimed several new pieces of information, the least of them being that Vexen was now sending the copy upstairs for errands such as getting his breakfast.

The first thing he noticed upon entering was that a small table in the corner, which had previously been crammed with various pieces of equipment, had been cleared off and now upheld a small pile of lab manuals, as well as a test tube rack and a few graduated cylinders. And there was a chair sitting behind it.

It turned out that, as Vexen informed him, the clone had been given slightly more responsibility when Vexen had noticed how well it was able to memorize chemical equations and properties. Also, it was apparently taking something of an interest in the work, and had started reading the science books and journals lying around. As Zexion had suspected, the table and chair in the corner constituted its own individual workspace.

And yes, it was Demyx who'd come up with the name "Z-2", when he'd stumbled in one day for some unimportant reason or another.

Zexion, in one of his rare moments of uncertainty, wasn't sure how to respond to the situation. On the one hand he didn't really care – his counterpart's continued existence was presenting no problems (since he was sure someone would have sought him out if there was), Vexen was content with his new helper, and Zexion was assured that he had nothing to worry about. He might even have reason to be proud of his copy's newfound skills, if it were possible. But…

It was kind of strange. Somehow.

"I hadn't expected this to go on for so long," he said at last. "I can't find any real reason to object to it, other than the fact that it is a part of me and can't reap any personal reward of its own in the long run. I think that makes its efforts somewhat pointless."

Z-2 didn't seem to react. It, like everyone else, knew what reward its creator was referring to.

Vexen frowned. "That cannot be denied," he agreed. "But be that as it may, it has proved its usefulness. I am surprised that no one thought of this before. When the day we reach our goal arrives, you do what you will with him; I doubt it will matter to me by then."

Zexion looked to the duplicate where it sat at its table in the corner, beginning to open a journal on a study of the properties of light. "Excuse me, Z-2," he asked, a bit mockingly, "but is this what you want? Would you prefer to stay here until Kingdom Hearts is complete?"

It looked up, hesitated, and then nodded.

"…if you ever need me, you know how to contact me."

Zexion left the lab.

/

The next few days passed by uneventfully. Zexion's time was taken up by missions, castle duties, and the peaceful solitude of the library. He was startled, however, to see Z-2 sweeping the landing of one of the staircases one afternoon, a job that he was pretty sure Axel was supposed to be doing that day. When he casually brought the matter up at the next meeting, Number Eight only shrugged. "I wanted to help Roxas train down in the arena, and your clone happened to be passing by. He was all too eager to lend a hand. Don't worry," he added, glancing cautiously up at a disapproving Xemnas, "it was only this once."

Another unexpected occurrence happened not long after. Zexion was walking down the hallway to the kitchen, it being his day to prepare a side dish for the evening meal. On his way, he ran into Xigbar.

The sniper blinked at him. "…Zexion?"

"Yes?" he asked, choosing not to wonder about the other's suspicious behavior.

"Oh, it is you. Heh. I guess I just saw Z-2 a minute ago, then. I thought he was you, so I reminded him it was his – your – day in the kitchen and sent him in there. Maybe I should have known it wasn't you – he walked in there without any remarks."

Zexion sighed, and then suddenly tensed. "We don't know if it knows how to cook! It doesn't inherit _all_ my skills!"

"Sorry, dude. I wouldn't have known."

Zexion stepped around Xigbar and continued toward his destination at a quicker pace than before. If the kitchen burned down at the hands of his duplicate, he knew most if not all fingers would be pointed at himself. While Zexion was one of the more skilled members at preparing dishes, he had no idea if the same could be said for Z-2.

He flung the door open…

…and was taken aback to see Z-2 standing at the cutting board, serenely slicing carrots.

The final product, a fried vegetable medley, received many compliments that evening.

/

From then on Z-2 seemed to spend more and more of its time around the other members, during the hours when Vexen did not require its help or just wanted it out of the lab for a while. Sometimes Zexion would find it reading by itself in the library, or sometimes in The Grey Area playing cards with Luxord and a circle of other members. Once he caught it coming inside from the castle garden with dirt smeared on its coat and gloves. Via their private telepathic link, Z-2 stated that Marluxia had asked it to weed a few patches.

Zexion felt that things were going just a little overboard. He had not agreed to allow his copy to take orders from anyone other than himself and Vexen. The last thing he wanted was for everyone to start taking advantage of it. He decided it was worth bringing up at the next meeting, but before he got the chance, an incident occurred which was completely uncalled for.

"Zexion?"

Zexion, sitting on one of the couches in The Grey Area, looked over the edge of his lexicon. "Yes, Thirteen?"

Roxas fidgeted a bit. "I thought you might want to know that Larxene is in one of her worse moods, and took Z-2 down to the arena. I was hoping you could get him out of there before-"

But Zexion had heard enough. He stood up abruptly and snapped the book shut before dismissing its presence. "Thank you, Roxas," he replied shortly, and promptly vanished in a mist of black.

He arrived at the arena just in time to see Z-2 stumble to the floor, sparks flickering from its joints as it struggled not to drop its tome. The Savage Nymph was standing a few yards away, grinning triumphantly as she brandished her throwing knives. "-apparently overestimated yourself, fool," she was snickering.

At Zexion's appearance, both combatants turned to look at him. Z-2 shakily brought itself back to its feet, while Larxene put her hands on her hips. "So the original comes to join us, does he? You ought to give your double here a few lessons in battle – he's hardly a challenge, even if he may be so good at everything else."

_This is what happens when I'm not around to direct your actions in battle_, Zexion silently berated the duplicate. _You should have known not to come here with anyone, though I understand how bossy Larxene can be._ Z-2 cast its eyes down, but gave no answer.

"I don't recall giving you or anyone else permission to train with…him," Zexion said firmly to Larxene, who scowled. "It's not supposed to be doing all this socializing to begin with."

"What's the matter, Bookworm?" Larxene jeered. "Afraid that everyone likes him more than you? If there's anything that makes him easier to be around, it's that he doesn't talk back!"

Calmly, Zexion turned to Z-2. _Go down to my chamber and rest. But from now on, don't do anything this foolish again. You can't comply with every demand, especially ones such as this._

…_I understand._

Zexion extended a hand, and a dark passageway materialized between himself and the clone. Z-2 stepped through it and vanished, and Zexion made to follow. "Hey! Are you listening, Zexion?" Larxene shouted.

The Cloaked Schemer looked back at her. "You should ask around," he replied coldly. "Get the facts first, and find out who among us is thought to be most and least tolerable."

After a pause which she took to comprehend his words, Larxene lunged forward in rage, a crackling knife splitting the air with lethal accuracy in the direction of Zexion's head. But before it could reach its mark, he was gone, only fading shadows left behind.

/

Zexion soon found that he had a new reason to wonder if Z-2's permanent existence was a good idea.

It was something that had been going on since the beginning, and which he hadn't considered a serious issue until now. Because Zexion's aid in the laboratory was all but a thing of the past, he was free to do what he pleased when he wasn't out on an assignment. This was not something that particularly bothered him, not at first. But soon the idle requests, which were soon accompanied by orders, began:

"Zexion, you're not busy, right? Come train with me for a while?"

"Hey Zexion, we're out of bread and it's almost lunchtime. Could you go out and get some? Everyone else is busy and I have to wipe down the table."

"Zexion, you will most likely spend more time than usual doing your assignment today. I'm sending you to a world with great environmental complexities."

"Zexion, you're just in time. The Superior wishes the furniture in this room to be rearranged, so you will be helping Axel and Roxas with the task."

It was evident that Z-2 was not the only one being used to the advantage of others. But unlike his doppelganger, to whom most if not all experiences were new, Zexion did not take particularly well to the new demands heaped upon him, especially where missions were concerned. While he usually welcomed a challenge, the amount of longer assignments he was receiving did not seem like a coincidence. It was not in his nature to complain, although one day he did convey his opinion to Saïx in a witty remark after being issued his assignment.

For this he received a deadpan stare from the Superior's right-hand man. "You can rest assured, Zexion, that we are not trying to overburden you. Everyone is continuing to do his share of work in accordance with his abilities. You might very well be imagining things, after all the…_excitement_…over that clone of yours that we've had."

Zexion did not believe a word of it.

"You haven't noticed any differences in the quality of your missions, have you?" he asked Marluxia one evening as he approached him on a balcony overlooking the castle garden.

Marluxia looked at him a bit oddly. "Not in particular, no. They're as dull as usual. Why do you ask?"

Zexion shook his head. "Lately, for me, they haven't been dull enough."

A few silent moments passed as Marluxia sought a way to reply to this, but his train of thought was broken as the sound of a portal opening up behind them was heard. Six and Eleven turned around to behold Z-2 stepping out of the gloom onto the veranda. A brown book edged with green was in its hand.

"That was awfully quick," Marluxia commented as Z-2 approached. "You're quite the efficient one." He took the book when the replica offered it to him.

Zexion didn't bother to look at Z-2 as he asked, _What's going on this time?_

_I retrieved a book for Number Eleven from the library._

_So I thought._ "What book might that be, Eleven?"

"A study of carnivorous plant species from the various worlds. I left off somewhere in the middle…"

"And may I ask what made you incapable of retrieving it from the library on your own?"

Marluxia shot him a glare. "Capability has nothing to do with it. There is no harm in a simple favor from someone who is willing to lend assistance, now is there? I would think that you'd be more than satisfied – he grows smarter and more helpful every day."

Zexion paused, and glanced at Z-2, who remained modest at Marluxia's acknowledgement. "Make no mistake, it has surpassed my expectations as well," he replied. "But I never had the intention of letting it be everyone's servant."

"Then perhaps you shouldn't have allowed him to be Vexen's lab partner, either," Marluxia curtly responded. He opened the book and began turning pages. Z-2 watched him for a second, then looked at Zexion, seemingly awaiting instructions.

"_It_ is still a part of me, you know," Zexion said coolly. "I ask that you remember that." To Z-2 he said, _You may go._ Then he turned and walked back inside the castle.

Zexion was beginning to lose his famously unlimited patience.

/

Zexion had never, ever felt uncomfortable in the library before.

But when he entered to find Z-2 sitting in the corner armchair, which happened to be Zexion's favorite spot in the room, he suddenly found that he did not want to be anywhere within its presence. Before it could even make a move to acknowledge him, Zexion turned around and walked out the door. Only once out in the hallway did he, nearly without thinking, summon a gate of darkness, one that led to one of his lesser-frequented reading spots – a certain lounge tucked away in a remote corner of the castle.

Stepping out, he was fully prepared to release a weary sigh and fall heavily onto a couch, hopefully to free his mind from its troublesome thoughts and lose himself in the pages of the lexicon. But the sight before him stopped him short – Lexaeus was sitting there on the end of one sofa with his own book. At Zexion's appearance, he looked up and gave a stoic nod.

"…good afternoon," Zexion greeted his colleague dully. "You won't object to my reading here, I assume?"

"No, of course not."

"Wonderful." Zexion dropped onto the couch opposite him, and without another word opened his book.

Minutes passed in silence, as Zexion resumed reading where he'd left off. But after a few pages, he found himself staring blankly at the words as his thoughts wandered back to Z-2 presenting the plant book to Marluxia, and to something the conniving gardener had said…

"…_he grows smarter and more helpful every day."_

And Z-2 – no, the clone, for that was all it was – had simply turned to Zexion, seeking his approval. _That_ was what was now distracting him more than anything else, he realized – that look Z-2 had given him in that moment, which had been…unsettling, almost.

Zexion could feel himself coming to the end of his rope. Something had to be done. Too many of the members were relying on Z-2 for things they could do themselves…or that Zexion could do.

"Lexaeus."

The other man looked up. "Yes?"

Lexaeus was most likely the only one who would take Zexion's issues with Z-2 seriously. That is, even though Zexion didn't want to make it seem as though he couldn't handle the situation on his own.

"Do you think that…_Z-2_…has been an asset to the castle?"

"Are you speaking of his original purpose of assisting Vexen, or of helping everyone else?"

Lexaeus didn't miss a thing. "Both, I suppose," Zexion replied.

"To be honest, I do not think he was really needed to begin with. I'm sure you've noticed that a number of our members have been using him for things they're too lazy to do themselves. Though I do believe it was Vexen's honest intention to give you a break."

"The ironic thing is that I didn't need a break," Zexion remarked. "But I must agree that in reality, it doesn't seem to have much use. Even if its doing menial tasks in the lab saves time, it's nothing we can't do without."

There was silence, as Zexion thought and Lexaeus watched him. Then Number Five spoke.

"You are bothered."

Zexion stared passively at him for a long second, debating on how to respond. Finally: "…yes."

Lexaeus waited.

"I don't think I can take it much longer," Zexion admitted. "I'm tired of seeing all the unnecessary work it is doing for certain people. And…I don't like the fact that certain people are asking it for aid when in reality its skills aren't even as highly developed as..."

"Yours."

"…well, yes. It's not right for them to expect it to be so productive when it hasn't even existed for that long. It holds my intellect, yes, but only to a certain degree, and it has not experienced all I have. It is only a copy. I think some of us are beginning to forget that."

"That may be so, but he seems not to mind lending a hand whenever he is asked."

"That's another thing!" Zexion suddenly exclaimed, in the closest he could come to indignation. "Don't refer to it as a 'he'. I wish everyone would stop doing that. And don't even mention 'Z-2'! A more ridiculous name I have never heard."

Lexaeus nodded. "Of course; you are right."

"I told it not long ago to stop taking orders from anyone other than myself, Vexen, and the Superior, if it ever came to that," Zexion said. "I asked it if it does everything it's asked because the others seem intimidating, and do you know what it told me? It said, 'No. It is because I feel it is my duty, and I believe doing various tasks will help make me a better assistant in the long run.' I almost couldn't believe it. Its will was supposed to stem from my own, but not anymore. I should have predicted something like this." At this point Zexion had closed the lexicon and was leaning forward to emphasize his point. "What's more is the independent interest it genuinely has in science and research. That would all be very well for any true Nobody, but that's not what it is, and I believe it will soon be overstepping its bounds. It needs to be reminded of its place, and everyone else needs to be reminded, too."

"It probably can't help its thirst for knowledge; it is a copy of _you_, after all."

Zexion sighed wearily. "Yes, I know. Which is why I'm not particularly surprised; it's only the intensity it has to learn that I didn't anticipate." He now realized that everything Z-2 had been doing around the castle – whether it be conducting experiments, playing cards, or cooking, and whether it be an order or not – was part of its quest for new information. It wanted to experience everything, so it never minded taking on every little thing. Just like its creator, it was relentless in its search for knowledge, but this had, for the most part, been hidden under the guise of servitude and silence. "It wants to be independent," Zexion said at last. "I believe I have created a monster. A harmless one, but a monster nonetheless." He leaned back on the sofa and smiled bitterly. "And to think that this all started only because I needed it to locate a book for Vexen when I had to leave. Well, I'm the errand boy now, running out to get food and supplies and being given longer missions since I apparently have nothing better to do. I know I'm not imagining it."

Lexaeus paused for a moment. "You know, Zexion, you still have one thing that Z-2 could never get unless you gave it to him. That thing is the power of speech. It can only attend others so much the way it is now."

Zexion was quiet for a few seconds. "Yes. It's a good thing I didn't grant it that ability. Imagine how much worse things would be if it could communicate with everyone verbally. It may be able to use the written word, but not the spoken voice…and frankly, I'd rather not permanently share my voice."

He still had that much. He had the one power that Z-2 would never be completely useful without.

"What will you do?"

Spilling out all the thoughts that had plagued him for days on end had begun to invigorate Zexion to take action. "Re-absorbing it would be the best way to get things back to normal. Everyone else would just have to put up with it. Including Vexen, though he wouldn't like it at all."

"And if complaints are brought to the Superior?"

"I don't care. That counterfeit is first and foremost mine. I will state my case to the Superior if he really has a problem with it."

"I see."

Zexion picked up the lexicon and stood. He had made the decision. Z-2 could not remain. Every day it would stay, the further Zexion would be pushed toward the edge. And that was all the reason he needed.

"I appreciate your listening to me, Lexaeus. You can be assured that I will have this finished before the day ends. The sooner it ends, the better."

Lexaeus nodded, and watched as the Cloaked Schemer, armed with the lexicon, surrounded himself with flames of darkness and was gone from sight, off to fulfill perhaps the most personal mission he had ever undertaken.

"It will be good to have you back, Zexion."

/

He stared at it for a good long moment from across the room, as it sat quietly reading what looked like one of the castle's countless books on the nature and study of the heart. It was just where he had last seen it, sitting in the white armchair in the corner of the library. His chair. _It's me_, Zexion thought. _That is me_. And yet it wasn't. He had the odd sensation that he was looking at himself, at himself doing what he felt he was meant to do – read. Learn. Know. Know all he could possibly know. The thing he prized most was going to be lost if he didn't do something. And he was going to lose it to none other than one who was essentially himself. That thing was his own mind.

But as long as Kingdom Hearts still shone, he would never allow it to happen.

Sensing its original nearby, Z-2 raised its head. It met Zexion's eyes, and after the briefest moment of gazing at each other, Zexion walked from his place at the doorway toward it, composed.

He stopped directly in front of it, and it slowly lowered the book it held to its lap. Closer to it now, Zexion studied it. He had created and instructed his clones in battle countless times before, but until now, he had never paid much attention to just how minutely they resembled him. The placement of every strand of hair, the very same posture he himself held when it stood, walked, and even sat in this chair, even the way it blinked expressionlessly at him as it waited…patiently.

Maybe there was something to prize even above the mind, Zexion pondered as he opened the lexicon. Maybe even above the heart, though that was highly debatable. He'd have to look into it when he got the chance.

_Identity._

Here it was. The page where normality had left off.

He raised his hand above its head, and struck.

**I really have no idea what this is. It was inspired by a dream, I can say that much. This was my first time writing the majority of the characters who made appearances in this story, so I hope no one was terribly out of character. I think I might've made Lexaeus talk too much, for one thing. Oh, and to those who don't know, The Grey Area is the main lounge in The Castle That Never Was, seen in 358/2 Days, where the Organization members hang out and are issued their missions.**

**Poor Z-2. And poor Zexion.**


End file.
